


their end is emptiness and their desire is for the void

by Laylah



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Canaan-Era, Dubious Consent, M/M, Using someone for sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: Belial almost always leaves Cilius' presence the same way: worked up, twisted up, and in need of relief that won't come. Today is no exception. He paces through the halls, seething, trying to calm himself. He has a job to do. Useful is the next best thing to precious, where a man like Cilius is concerned.As he passes by a window, he sees the executioner sitting in the garden, still and quiet, hair falling down in a curtain that hides his face. That could be an entertaining little diversion.
Relationships: Belial/Sariel (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	their end is emptiness and their desire is for the void

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skysedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this! Belial is such a fascinating problem, and it was fun to have a chance to write him this cold and selfish. A very dark chocolate, if you will: almost all bitter, very little sweet.

Belial almost always leaves Cilius' presence the same way: worked up, twisted up, and in need of relief that won't come. Today is no exception. He paces through the halls, seething, trying to calm himself. He has a job to do. Useful is the next best thing to precious, where a man like Cilius is concerned.

As he passes by a window, he sees the executioner sitting in the garden, still and quiet, hair falling down in a curtain that hides his face. That could be an entertaining little diversion. Sariel treats Belial like a hero for noticing that he isn't bloodthirsty. And he's simple enough not to ask too many unwelcome questions.

There, problem solving. Isn't that an admirable trait? The act of a valuable creature? Belial makes his way down to the garden, where he finds Sariel, as usual, admiring not the trees or the blossoms but the helpless crawling things at his feet. There's a metaphor in that, probably.

Belial drapes himself over Sariel's back, magnanimously ignoring how Sariel startles at the touch. "Sarry! How are your little friends doing?"

"I don't know if they understand friendship," Sariel says slowly, "but I think they're well."

He makes it too easy. "You understand friendship though, don't you, Sarry?" Belial leans against him, tugging and tracing all the leather straps and buckles that make a formidable nightmare for mortals out of this mild-mannered beast. "You know friends help each other out."

"Yes," Sariel says after only a moment's hesitation. He feels tense where Belial is touching him—he's probably not used to being touched apart from combat and exams. It's his lucky day, isn't it? "Do you need me to help with something, commander?"

"Nothing too strenuous, don't worry." Belial slides a hand into Sariel's trousers and palms his cock; Sariel takes a sharp breath but doesn't stop him. Even soft, it's a handful, and it doesn't stay soft for long. Sariel shivers, his breath stuttering as his cock stiffens in Belial's grip.

"Commander," Sariel says. "What—"

"You're doing just fine." Belial gives him one more good squeeze and lets go. "Come on now, on your back."

They could go somewhere else, where nobody would be likely to look out a window in passing and get an eyeful—but fuck it. If they're _beasts_ , then he might as well rut like one, and any observer who concludes he can only follow orders and satisfy instincts is welcome to remain misinformed.

Sariel's eyes are wide and worried as he rolls over, carefully putting some distance between himself and the heaped sand of his anthill. His hair spills around him so gracefully when he lies back, his limbs so long and slender, his face so delicate... Why build a killer and make him look like this?

Why build any of them the way they are? Belial reaches down to start unbuttoning his pants. "Get yours open too, Sarry, show me what you've got for me."

"For you?" Sariel still sounds confused, and he's slow to respond; by the time he's gotten his trousers peeled open, Belial has his all the way off.

"That's right. You've got something there I'd like to play with." Nobody stops him when he pilfers lubricant from the lab; probably Cilius assumes he's using it for recruiting. The stuff he strokes over Sariel's cock is cool and so slick it barely feels real, and gets him the rest of the way hard in no time.

"Nnh—commander!" Sariel's hips buck like he can't stop himself.

"Ssh, Sarry, don't fret. I just get so needy sometimes, so _empty_ ," and he throws a leg over those narrow hips, trying to push the bitterness back from his voice, "and I need something to take that feeling away. Now hold still for me."

Sariel freezes, eyes still wide, and Belial lines up to take him in. His cock is thicker than it has any right to be, so even with the slick it burns, stretching Belial open; still, that's not a bad sort of discomfort, on the whole. Belial pushes down until he's taking all of it, that big cock so deep it feels like it's trying to reach his core. He rocks his hips, letting the fullness anchor him with the way it demands attention. His own hard-on throbs in response to the shifting pressure.

His attempt to lose himself momentarily in bestial sensation is interrupted by Sariel making a strangled noise of dismay. Belial makes himself focus—he'd be a poor soldier for the cause if he lost an easy ally over an impulse for momentary relief—and has to stifle a laugh.

"You can move now, Sarry," he says. "Let me feel you drive it in deep."

"But—" Sariel still looks uncertain, out of his depth with a task he wasn't made for.

"Don't make me beg," Belial chides. "You don't want to hurt my feelings, do you?"

Sariel shakes his head hurriedly. Of course he doesn't want to upset his dear commander.

His first few thrusts are clumsy, but he _is_ made for physical power and grace and he gets the hang of it soon enough. Belial closes his eyes, rocking down into each thrust, wrapping a hand around his own cock to stroke it in time. If he doesn't think past this moment, if he feels the stretch and slide and pressure and nothing else, it's good. It's pleasure. It's enough.

Sariel doesn't fight him for control, which makes it easier but less distracting; without the struggle, even a good fuck only demands so much attention. But it is a good fuck, hard and steady, that thick cock rubbing exactly where Belial wants it. He moves faster, riding hard, his breath coming quick and shallow as he works himself up—

Climax sparks and tingles through his nerves, bending him almost double in Sariel's lap, a hiss of energy through his back as though his wings are about to manifest. For one glorious moment, he feels scoured clean and empty of need.

"Commander, please," Sariel says shakily, his hands almost too tight on Belial's thighs.

"This is all new for you, isn't it?" Belial asks. He's made a mess, his come streaking Sariel's uniform. "Go on, let it happen. You'll like it."

It's possible Sariel was only waiting for permission; it takes only a few more strokes before his back is arching and he's crying out in shock and—hopefully—pleasure. He trembles through it, cock pulsing, and when he finally falls back in relief he stares up at Belial utterly awestruck. 

There really wasn't any doubt of Sariel's loyalty before, but this can only help. Belial grins down at him; the falseness feels obvious but Sariel always struggles with reading people. "See, you're a natural. I knew I could count on you." Belial lifts himself free and reaches for his discarded clothes. "I'd better go get cleaned up before my next meeting. But if I need somebody to show me a good time again," and he winks, like they're in on this together, like it matters, "I know just the friend to ask."


End file.
